This is the commencement address I delivered last weekend. What an honor. The ceremony was outstanding, and I was glad to be able to share this moment with a special group of young people.
This revised version leaves out a section where I reminisced about specific memories from the years that I had this class of graduates as 7th and 8th graders.
And I couldn’t find a t-shirt cannon, so that was sort of a letdown.
Good afternoon graduates, parents, family members, friends, casual acquaintances, complete strangers, and random passersby who simply came in to get out of the rain and possibly score some free cake.
In 12 years of teaching, you, the members of the Class of 2011, stand out as some of my absolute favorites, and I look back at the time we spent together in 7th and 8th grade fondly.
I’ve kept up with you through the years, and I know that you sit before us today as a diverse, accomplished collection of scholars, musicians, singers, athletes, artists, and above all, quality global citizens. I would have expected nothing less.
So when Miriah visited me a few months ago on behalf of your class and asked me to deliver the commencement address, I was truly humbled. What an incredible honor. Knowing I was your first choice to share in this special occasion blew me away.
But then I found out I wasn’t your first choice.
As Mariah was leaving my classroom that day she extended the invitation to me, she dropped a piece of paper. Admittedly, a responsible individual would have picked it up without looking at it, chased Mariah down, and handed it back to her.
I’m not that individual.
Instead, I immediately unfolded the page and read it.
And then I immediately wished I hadn’t.
On the paper was a numbered list of potential graduation speakers. Rankings, basically. I was number 13.
Yes, 13.
A line had been drawn through the names of candidates 1-12, and there were notes next to each explaining why he or she or, in some cases, it had been eliminated as a prospective speaker.
I’m going to share this list with you.
1. Best-selling author Snooki from Jersey Shore: would love to speak in Wyoming but says she doesn’t have a passport so won’t be able to travel to a foreign country
2. Jared from Subway: busy eating fresh that day
3. Rebecca Black: can only make it if it’s on a Friday, Friday, Friday, yeah-yeah
4. Howie Mandel from Deal or No Deal: we want somebody bald but not that bald
5. Mr. Mirich: concerned that he’ll get all spazzy and gleeful on us; too animated (this is the principal)
6. Will Ferrell: already booked for Tongue River’s graduation (the other high school in the district)
7. Perry the Platypus from Phineas and Ferb: cannot speak; only makes that one tongue-clucking noise
8. The Spirit Rock out in front of the school: also incapable of speech
9. Lady Gaga: will be incubating that day; you know some of your parents are laughing and thinking to themselves “Now, Lady Gaga was their biology teacher, right?”
10. Lebron James: says he’s too intimidated; worried that Colby will dunk on him (one of the graduates)
11. Thor: unavailable; turns out he’s actually fictitious
12. Ke$ha: too glittery
13. Mr. McFadden: also too glittery, but probably available if it comes to that
14. A tray of cafeteria food
So although I may not have been your first choice, by default I did manage to get the gig. For that I would like to say thank you.
And the fact that I, of all people, am the one addressing you is a testament to the power of The Golden Rule.
I can't play jazz flute.
There is no noteworthy accomplishment in my past or skill or ability I possess that qualifies me for this honor.
I’ve never invented anything nor won a major award nor had my name in a headline.
I can’t surgically repair a damaged brain or run a 4-minute mile or play jazz flute at a world-class level. Ironically, my only notable quality is one that every person is capable of: I’ve strived to treat the young people I’ve had the privilege to work with exactly as I prefer to be treated.
A few days ago my mother officially retired after 31 years as a middle school paraprofessional, and the example of empathy and respectfulness she modeled during that time is one that I carry with me. She is beloved and respected by the young people she worked with for 31 years not because she demanded that from them but because she earned it from them.
My mom never treated students differently because they were 11 or 12 or 13-years-old. She simply treated them like she felt every person deserves to be treated. That lesson she taught me has affected my life, and yet it really had nothing to do with her being a teacher.
There are teachers who aren’t actually teachers by profession all around us, and we uncover a world of possibility in terms of personal growth when we open up our minds to the idea that valuable lessons can be learned from anyone.
Maybe even from a 7-year-old and a 5-year-old.
You may have wondered what the deal is with the wagon at the front of the stage. The rock in that wagon is my gift to you courtesy of my sons, Nolan and Reed.
Now you’re thinking, “Wow. Bill Gates is probably speaking at a high school right now doling out iPads to the graduates like they’re Tootsie Roll Pops and we chose the guy who brought us a rock in a beat-down Radio Flyer wagon. Splendid.” But I believe there are a lot of lessons to be learned from that rock.
Before we know it, these four will be sitting out there in goofy hats listening to some bald, glittery guy tell bad jokes and anecdotes about his kids.
About two months ago on a day that looked pretty similar to today — cold and wet and dreary – we were exploring the property behind our house when Nolan and Reed spotted this rock (which you can see is actually a huge chunk of concrete) in the water down under a culvert.
Instantly, they had to have it. Instantly, I tried to talk them out of it, attempting to convince them that the rock was probably really happy in the middle of the creek with its other rock buddies, but they would not be denied. And after about an hour, the rock made it up under our deck, much to the delight of the boys, where it sat until I brought it here today.
So what lessons are to be learned from this rock?
1. Don’t ever have children. I’m joking, of course. My four kids are my world, and I only hope that I manage to teach them as much as they’re teaching me. And I know your parents feel the same. For everything they’ve taught you, you’ve taught them just as much if not more.
1A. Don’t let others decide what should or shouldn’t make you happy. I tried to talk the boys out of getting the rock. “It’s just a rock,” I told them. “It’s cold. It’s wet. It’s quite a ways back to the house. Just leave it. You’ll find another rock.” Their mom even offered them hot chocolate to come inside. But they wouldn’t let us define what they believed would fulfill them.
2. Seek out others who have a common vision and support yours. The boys gained strength in their quest through one another’s passion, and they ignored the negativity of others.
3. If it’s going to move you forward on your desired path, ask for help. Standing shin-deep in early March water, Nolan and Reed strained to lift that rock. They found sticks and tried to pry it up. It wasn’t happening. So they asked me to help. And I did.
4. Be a flexible thinker. Initially, the boys tried to pull the rock back to the house on a sled. When that didn’t work, they ran and got that wagon, and the two of them pulling together got it moving.
5. Don’t limit yourself. It never seemed to cross those two pipsqueak’s minds that they might not be able to get that rock back to the house. There were enough obstacles to overcome without the boys becoming obstacles to themselves by doubting the goal and their ability to achieve it.
6. Enjoy your accomplishment. And be grateful. The smiles on those two could hardly be contained by their chilled faces once they got that rock back to the house. They’d achieved what they’d set out to do even though it hadn’t been easy, which made it even more gratifying. And as they stood there shivering, they both said, “Thanks, Dad.”
7. Don’t be afraid to go look for another rock. About five minutes after Nolan and Reed got that rock home, it was forgotten. They were inside the house and on to other things. Maybe you’ll find that the thing you always believed would make you happy and fulfilled isn’t really that thing at all once you have it, but that makes the journey to discovering it no less valuable. It just means it’s time to go find another one. And it’s never too late to start searching. Heck, you might be 37-years-old before you realize it’s time to look for another rock.
Class of 2011, your rocks are out there. I know you’ll find the one that’s right for you.
And if you’d like to take this one, please feel free. I don’t plan on hauling it home again.
Congratulations, graduates, and best of luck in wherever your rock hunting takes you.
This speech is perfection. I seriously love everything about it.(and I’m not serious all that often.)
I wish I’d had someone say something like this to me at any of the “big moments” in my youth.
I can only hope my kids have someone as special (and glittery) speak to them at their graduation.
They probably won’t.
But we live near Tom Selleck.
So, fingers crossed.
Tom Selleck? You gotta know he’d do a bang up job speaking. And if he brought Higgins, TC, and Rick along? Good night!
wow. amazing speech. seriously.
i just hope you at least went to taco bell afterward. you know, since there was no T-shirt cannon and all.
Thanks. Turns out the graduates were sitting about 20 feet away from me on the stage, so the t-shirt cannon might have gotten a little ugly. I did toss cheese quesadillas to them, though.
You got blood from a stone, you really did.
Nicely done. Wouldn’t have expected otherwise, but still.
First there was Morrie. Then there was Pausch. And now there’s you. And you didn’t even have to die.
Well done.
Thanks. For the death curse. I’ll probably do myself in with the the weedeater today. Cheers, eh.
Love it Chase!
Thanks.
Great speech! I would have LOVED to have had you as my graduating class speaker for both high school and college back in the day – mine was VERY forgettable – and I doubt ANYONE will forget this one. Great job.
Thanks, Cindy. Your comment has me trying to remember who my college commencement speaker was. No recollection whatsoever. There’s a fairly good chance I was hungover, but still. Wow, nothing.
A wonderful graduation speech. Well done.
Thank you.
Perfect. I love this. They’ll remember it.
Thanks. Just came to me, but I could have served bacon. That wouldn’t have hurt.
Some great life lessons there, Chase…I think the boys were meant to find that rock…
Wendy
Maybe they were. I went back and forth whether or not to go in that direction with the speech. If the graduates weren’t familiar with my kids, I probably wouldn’t have used it.
Nolan was one when I taught them as 7th graders, and Reed was born when they were 8th graders. One of the girls in the class reminded me that we voted on baby names for him. I think Gunther Shlicktenstein was the winning name.
Thanks, Wendy.
So, I take it KAW vetoed “Gunther”? Reed dodged a bullet with that one!
We really liked Nash, but one of our name rules was no kids that have the same first letter. Gunther would have been fine, though.
It was a nice ceremony and a great speech, Chase. Thanks for doing such a bang up job. You sort of graduated, too. Enough with the @#$%$#% rock, though. Bring home some $$.
Yr Pal,
G
Thanks, Beer Name Lady. Yes, now on to finding a rock that has at least a few flakes of gold in it. I’d probably better check that one the boys found, actually.
I am choked up to the eyeballs right now. In fact, I cam barely see to type this while switching on the computer to print that whole speech out.
I plan to put it in the box of “treasures” that my sons keep – so that they too, may stumble across your wise words.
Don’t let others decide your happiness. Brilliance.
Thanks. Glad you enjoyed it.
Nice, McFaddy. I felt this momentous occasion deserved a nickname.
I don’t remember our high school graduation speech, so I’m just going to pretend this one was it.
Never forget you beat out Perry the Platypus. Tongue-clucking is overrated.
McFaddy. Awesome. A huge upgrade from my current McJackass. Or McGrayBeard.
Now, you just graduated last year, right? And you can’t remember?
Thankfully they didn’t ask Doofenshmirtz. He would have owned my ass.
Is it okay if I’m still looking for my rock? I mean, shouldn’t I have found it by now? Is it possible that my rock might be a tree?
Fab speech, dear one.
Hopefully people wore Depends.
xoxoRASJ
We can go search for rocks together. Not sure where mine is either. Might be under a pile of laundry.
Thanks, Renee.
See!! You did really good.
I have to admit I got choked up reading your speech. You gave them a very good message in a memorable way.
Thanks. I hope they took something from it, even if it was just a laugh. Nobody took the rock, though. Dammit.
Personally, I think you should take this one on the road – it’s that good. Hmmm…might be a little tough to tote that rock, however.
SO glad you posted this – it’s been fun to read about it and now it’s great to have it in front of me.
You really coulda been a preacher – but i’m guessing you’re an amazing teacher. Lucky kids – especially those four who leapt out of “The Wizard of Oz” at the top of your blog.
Thanks, Diana. You know, I’m much more comfortable doing that sort of thing than I ever thought I’d be. In addition to a couple of graduations, I’ve written and delivered the eulogy for three family members, and I really don’t get that nervous about it. I think it’s because it starts out as a piece of writing first.
Sounds to me like you were the perfect choice!!!
Thanks. Lucky 13, right?
Awesome job, Chase! Teachers around the globe are jealous they didn’t come up with this first. I’m sure the kids felt really guilty that you weren’t at least #5 on their list of preferred speakers.
Thanks. I think the kids did enjoy the list. And I should have easily been top 7.
Mean 13, right? 13 is such a bad ass number.
Wonderful speech. You ROCK.
Oh yeah, your old middle school hoops number, right? Thanks, Annie.
I knew you would do good. I’m still smiling.
Thanks, Alice.
Awesome speech. I love your sense of humour, and your attitude toward kids — that Golden Rule thing’s a pretty good guideline for life.
Thanks, Shari.
Truly inspiring…you now have this 37 year old wondering if finding a new rock is in order. Let me guess, you are switching gears to open that badger and coon hat shop you have always dreamed of?
I am, and I need a head model so please send in your application and portfolio. Mug shots are acceptable. Tell Chewie that I’m designing a special line for Wookies, as well, so I’ll need him, too.
I’m finding all sorts of rocks these days! Love your speech. Taking it to heart. Started 2 blogs today.
Not that they’re good, so don’t look me up, okay? I’m definitely not as funny as you, but I do have the 4 kids thing going for me. Lol
Thanks and congrats. Two blogs? That’s ambitious. Don’t worry. If you’ve got 4 kids, you’ll have plenty to write about. And if you think a fifth would be even funnier, let me know and I’ll send you Perpetual Motion for a 30-day trial.
Now I want to graduate again
That would mean I still had my mullet. Sweet, sweet mullet.
If you think you feel bad, just think of how that cafeteria tray must be feeling right now.
After sharing the list, I glanced over to where the tray was sitting. It was clearly despondent. I felt bad.
Maya Angelou spoke at my college graduation. I would rather have had your speech. I would have remembered what was said.
Wow. Maya Angelou. That’s big time. She didn’t bring a rock, did she? Thanks.
No, that might have been the problem. She’s too big. You know what I mean? If one of the professors had spoken, I’d remember that. Maya is an awesome speaker, and very powerful, but I’ll be damned if I can remember a word she said.
Sort of awestruck? Yeah, that wasn’t an issue when I spoke.
That’s the kind of speech that I would’ve been held spellbound to.
Why don’t more people make their point this way? In ways that can be understood.
THis was great. Came over from your comment at Jillsmo’s, glad I did.
Thanks. Glad you stopped by.
I love this. I do. And I can’t even find something snarky to say, which makes me feel all funny and unbitter.
Your students must think very highly of you, and I can see why.
Sorry to steal your snarky thunder. Glad you enjoyed it. Thanks.